


Wish For Nothing Larger

by BonesOfBirdWings



Series: He Speaks Stars [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 23:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5559817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonesOfBirdWings/pseuds/BonesOfBirdWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Order is crippled - the battle is over, the Rebellion triumphant. Finn’s not sure where that leaves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish For Nothing Larger

**Author's Note:**

> This was conceived in a single night. Woot woot.
> 
> Much thanks to [Mal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/pseuds/Malapropian), who is the best dad and beta and is an all-around great person.

When Finn finally wakes up in the medbay, his world has changed.

He hasn’t had much time to think about it before. After the debacle at the village, he had chosen to run, and then he had just… kept running. There hadn’t been any other choice - he had to get away, and then he had to go rescue Rey....

But now there’s nowhere to run, and Finn can finally _think_. Which, he discovers, isn’t actually a blessing. All his life, he’s had his every move planned out by his superiors, a daily schedule hammered into him by his conditioning in the strictly regimented barracks. His purpose was only to serve the First Order, and now….

Now he doesn’t know what his purpose is.

“You can stay here,” General Organa tells him, holding his hand gently as she sits in a hard, plastic chair near his bed. “In fact, we’d love to have you stay. You’re a hero, you know.” She smiles at him, a small, weary thing. He looks in her eyes and all he can see is red, red, red, and a long, precipitous drop. He blinks back his tears. “I’ve ordered access to you to be restricted, actually, or else you’d already be swarmed with admirers.”

He’s not sure he quite believes her, but he smiles back tentatively. “I…” He stops, swallows. “I think I’d like to stay here. For the time being, at least.” There’s still a funny swooping feeling in his stomach every time he makes a choice - it’s not quite excitement, but it’s not quite fear either.

“Good.” Her smile becomes a touch brighter. She releases his hand and slowly rises to her feet. “Also, is there anyone here that I should allow access to? Rey’s already left.”

The knowledge, although painful, isn’t unexpected. Rey is the embodiment of motion, always moving, always bright, sharp. He thinks it’s a shame that whatever was in her past kept her so chained to that inhospitable, dusty rock. He couldn’t imagine her staying on this base for so long. But… “Can you let Poe in? If he wants.”

General Organa laughs. “If he wants? That boy’s visited here every day, I swear. Even the droids are getting tired of him.” Finn has to fight down the beaming smile that wants to break out across his face. The thought that someone would try to see him _every day… him_ , FN-2187, lights up some warm thing in his chest.

General Organa huffs out another laugh. “Well,” she says, a private amusement lacing her voice, “I’ll tell the droids to allow Poe Dameron to visit. In the meantime, get some rest.” She reaches out and pats his shoulder. He flinches from the unfamiliar contact, and by the time he’s caught his mistake, General Organa is already pulling away. He glances up and catches a look of deep sorrow in her eyes. He looks away.

The silence stretches for a moment. “Thank you,” the General finally says. Caught off guard, Finn looks back up at her. He doesn’t recognize the expression on her face. “We wouldn’t have survived if it hadn’t been for you. We all owe you our lives.” Finn is stunned, and before he can formulate a reply, she shoots him one last smile and exits the medbay.

“I couldn’t have done anything else,” he says to an empty room.

* * *

As soon as the General adjusts the list of Finn’s allowed visitors, Poe is there, all smiles and motion and warmth. “Finn!” he exclaims the first time he steps into the medbay, bounding over to Finn’s bedside. “Man, it’s _so good_ to see you awake!” He gives Finn a blinding smile, and Finn finds that it’s impossible not to return it. It’s impossible to speak too, apparently, as the words all catch in his throat.

“I’m sorry about your jacket,” he finally says, and wow, where did _that_ even come from?

But Poe seems unfazed. He laughs. “Finn, don’t worry about my _jacket_. I’m just glad you’re alright.” He claps a hand on Finn’s shoulder and this time, he only flinches a little. Poe doesn’t seem to notice anything. “And besides,” Poe continues, “I’ve got myself a new one. Got you another one at the same time too.”

“Me?” Finn asks disbelievingly. “Really?”

Poe smiles sheepishly at him. “Sorry if I overstepped or something, but it seemed like you liked the old one, so I thought…”

“No, no,” Finn protests. “No, Poe, it’s just that I… I mean, I haven’t….” He huffs out an irritated breath, frustrated with his inability express the complex knot of feelings that’s lodged somewhere under his ribcage. “You… you’d do that for me? I mean, you don’t have to! It probably cost money, and I don’t -”

“Hey.” Poe stops his rambling with a soft smile and a warm hand laid on top of his. “It was my pleasure. Besides, it looked good on you.”

Finn can’t stop the smile spreading across his face, so he just gives in and beams up at Poe. Poe beams back, a dusting of red on his cheeks.

And Poe doesn’t leave, not really. He’s there when Finn takes his first shaky steps across the medbay. He’s there when Finn finally begins to run his daily laps in the room that’s been designated for his physical therapy. He’s there when Finn falls and falls and falls, and every time, he offers Finn a hand back up.

He’s grateful for Poe’s company. He’s sure that the pilot could have been doing a host of other things, hanging around more interesting people than an ex-stormtrooper who could barely walk. (The first and only time he had expressed these feelings to Poe, the pilot had scowled at him fiercely. “You’re not a chore,” he had stated. “I like hanging out with _you_ , Finn. And it’s not like I’m skipping out on any of my responsibilities, so you don’t have to worry about that either.”) 

When Poe’s with him, everything feels _right_ , like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. But when Poe’s gone… when the medbay is dark and silent…

He wonders what he’s really doing here. Working towards getting out of the medbay, that’s a good goal. It feels solid, achievable. But he doesn’t like to think of the future after that. It’s hazy, indistinct, formless. He thinks he wants to stay here, but he doesn’t know where he even fits in. He was only helpful in this battle because he knew the layout of the First Order’s base and where to strike to disable their weapon. It’s not like he’s any sort of pilot or tactician. He can’t even help support the Rebellion troops - he can’t cook or clean… well, he is pretty good at disposing of waste, he supposes, but the rebels probably don’t require a sanitation worker. All he knows how to be is a foot soldier, cannon fodder. That’s all he was trained to be. And as far as he can see, the rebels aren’t big on the idea of cannon fodder (and isn’t that a pleasant surprise, to be in a place where _every_ life is valued). So being handy with a blaster is probably a plus, but it’s not likely to get him a long-term position here.

But in the morning, Poe always returns, and Finn pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind. He just concentrates on his goal, on putting one foot in front of the other.

And it pays off - soon enough, the doctor’s signed off on his release, and Poe is ushering him through the twisting hallways of the rebel base. “I got you this room a couple of weeks ago,” Poe tells him happily. “It’s not big, none of them are really, but the main attraction is…” Poe tugs on Finn’s elbow as they stop between two doors and then gestures to either side. “You’re across the hall from me!”

Finn smiles, a warm feeling settling in his stomach. “Thanks, Poe. This is great.”

“Really?” Poe turns to look at Finn, his eyes sweeping over his face, searching for something. After a moment, a bright grin breaks out across his face. “Hah, I’m glad you like it. Here,” he continues tugging Finn’s elbow to get him moving down the hallway again. “We’ll come back and get you settled in later. It’s dinner time, and there’s some friends of mine I want you to meet.”

It doesn’t really surprise Finn that Poe’s “friends” consist of most of the base. It was obvious from when he first met Poe that he was a personable guy. What’s more surprising is that all of Poe’s friends seem to genuinely like Finn as well. People are chatting with him and smiling at him, like he’s one of them. But he knows he’s not - they might think he is now, but there’s no way he’s like them. They’re all rebels, real rebels. Brave and strong and true people, not scared little stormtroopers that don’t have the guts to carry out their orders. 

It eventually becomes too much. When he feels full enough, he pushes his plate to one side and politely excuses himself.

“Hey,” Poe says, “I’ll come with you.” On one side of him sits a beautiful, dark-haired woman and on the other, a laughing bearded man. The camaraderie between the three of them is obvious.

“No,” Finn protests. He doesn’t want to interfere with this. These two are Poe’s close friends. All the time that Poe had spent in the medbay with him, he could have been spending with these people. Guilt crawls under his skin. “I’ll be fine, Poe, honest.”

“Okay,” Poe says, his smile dimming a fraction. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, thanks. You’ve already shown me where to go.”

“Yeah. See you in the morning?” There’s something hopeful in Poe’s voice. Hopeful for what, Finn isn’t sure.

“Sure,” Finn replies, waving goodbye to Poe and his friends as he exits the mess hall.

When he arrives in front of the doors that Poe had shown him earlier, he realizes that he hasn’t planned this out well. Sure, Poe had shown him where they _were_ , but he doesn’t have a key… in fact, he doesn’t even know which of the two doors was _his_.

“Hey!” cries a familiar voice from behind him. “Finn, you forgot something!”

With a laugh, Finn turns to see Poe. “Yeah, I noticed. I can’t really open my door without my key.”

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, fishing around in his jacket pocket. “I should have given this to you sooner, but….” He shrugs. “Oh well. Here it is.” He hands Finn a keycard and gestures to the door on his right. “Home sweet home.”

“Thanks, Poe.” Finn swipes the keycard over the scanner, the door unlocking with a soft click. “Sorry to make you leave dinner early.”

“Nah,” Poe replies, leaning on the wall next to Finn’s door. “It was wrapping up anyway.”

“Oh.” Finn, not quite sure how to reply, opens his door and steps into his room. Poe was right - it’s tiny. The bed is raised, and underneath are several sets of drawers. There’s a tall, plastic nightstand next to the head of the bed. The rest of the space is only just enough room for a person to walk to the bed. So it is tiny… but Finn had spent all his life in group barracks. This is more than enough room… and it’s all his.

Poe pokes his head around the door. “So?” he drawls. “What do you think? Small, eh?”

“It’s wonderful,” Finn breathes, whirling around to fix Poe with a broad grin. “My own room!”

“Ahh…” Poe seems startled for a moment before pulling himself together. “Yeah! Your own room. And look.” He points at Finn’s bed. Confused, Finn turns, and sees, resting on his bed, a new jacket, identical to Poe’s. He bites his lower lip as tears spring to his eyes. 

All at once, the feelings he’s been repressing for _months_ bubble to the surface. He doesn’t _deserve_ this. What is he, even? He’s not useful to anyone, not anymore. He doesn’t have skills or knowledge or a _purpose_ , not like Poe and his pilot friends. He didn’t even have a _name_ before Poe gave him one. He’s not like them, not like these _people_. He doesn’t deserve space and friendship and new jackets. He deserves a little box-like bed in the barracks and unsmiling masters and uniform, white armor. He’s such a _pretender_. And one day, Poe and all his friends will realize that Finn’s just faking it - that he’s not an actual person, just a broken, useless _thing_.

“Finn?” Poe asks from behind him.

And that’s it. Finn can’t stop it. A sob rises in his chest and bursts out his mouth. He quickly snaps it shut, mortified, but the damage has been done.

“Finn!” Warm hands grab his shoulders, guiding him to face Poe, who is looking at him with concern. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Finn shakes his head, unable to speak.

“Is it the jacket?” Poe continues, eyes frantically searching Finn’s face, presumably for some hint about what caused him to sob.

“No!” Finn cries desperately, suddenly afraid that this jacket, this jacket that _Poe_ bought him, will be taken away. He shuts his mouth quickly, but not before another chest-deep sob escapes him.

“Alright,” Poe says gently, hands travelling down Finn’s arms to grasp his hands. “Alright. Here, sit.” He tugs Finn over to sit on the bed and hoists himself up beside him. “Here.” He grabs the jacket from beside him and carefully drapes it over Finn’s shoulders. “There you go.” He smiles at Finn, a soft, warm thing. Finn can feel the comforting weight of the jacket settling over him and breathes in the scent of new leather and clean fabric.

“Finn.” Finn can’t make himself look up and meet Poe’s eyes. “Finn, talk to me. Hey.” One of Poe’s hands gently nudges Finn’s chin, encouraging him to look into Poe’s warm, brown eyes. “It’s okay. Whatever it is. You can tell me.”

Finn is defenseless against this. He’s never experienced this kind of sincere _care_ , and it’s _Poe_ , although Finn isn’t really up to examining why this fact is so important right now. But it’s not like he can tell Poe all of this either, so he opens his mouth, intending to tell him _something_ , but instead, deep, wracking sobs burst from his throat.

He can’t stop it now. He can feel hot tears streak down his cheeks as warm hands draw him to lean against an even warmer chest that smells of leather and heat, with a hint of spice. He hears the murmur of a soothing voice above his head as the hands stroke over his back.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, Finn curled into Poe’s comforting embrace, but eventually the tears cease, first slowing to a trickle before drying completely. But Finn doesn’t move, and neither does Poe.

“I don’t know,” Finn finally mumbles into Poe’s shoulder. He swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he repeats a little louder. 

“What do you mean?” asks Poe, his arms firm and immovable around Finn’s shoulders.

“You’re a pilot. And so are the others I met today. Pilots or gunners or tacticians or cooks… I can’t do any of that, Poe.” Finn bites his bottom lip harshly. “I… I’m useless…. Just… maybe I should go? I won’t be -”

“No.” Poe’s arms tighten, pulling Finn even closer to his chest.

“What?”

“No. You’re far from _useless_ , Finn. And… you shouldn’t go unless you… unless you really want to.”

“How am I _not_ useless?” Finn murmurs into Poe’s chest.

“Why are you measuring usefulness in _skills_?” Poe counters.

“What other way is there?”

“What do you…. Ah. That’s right.” Something dark creeps into Poe’s voice, although he doesn’t pull away at all from Finn. “That makes sense, I suppose. But Finn, listen. I know they probably taught you in the First Order that emotion wasn’t very important, but they were _wrong_ , okay? Emotion is very important, and emotionally… you’re important. To a lot of people.”

“I’m not,” Finn immediately protests, but he finds it hard to continue.

Poe obviously has no such trouble. “You are,” he argues. “You really are. You saved us all, you know? And even if you hadn’t, you’re… you’re so nice.”

“What?”

“Umm….” From his position, Finn can feel Poe swallow. “They all liked you tonight,” he continues. “Jess said that you listened to her rant about the modifications to her X-Wing for at least fifteen minutes, which is probably a record. And you looked through Tommy’s pictures of his kids, and you honestly cared about the stories he was telling you.”

“They’re cute kids,” Finn mutters in his defense.

“They might not be your friends quite yet, but give it a month… hell, give it a week, and you’ll fit right in here,” Poe assures him.

“You don’t have to be _useful_ to be one of us.”

“Oh.” Finn swallows thickly. “Oh,” he repeats.

“And….” Poe pauses. “Umm, and you’re… you’re important to me too.”

Finn smiles. He can feel the weight of the jacket on his shoulders and the warm press of Poe’s arms around him. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You’re important to me as well.” He shifts, tucking his head into the hollow of Poe’s throat.

He can’t really feel it yet, still so off-kilter from the changes in his life, but he can sense the edges of it. _Yes_ , he thinks, surrounded by the scent of warm leather, _yes, I could belong here._

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://flightofmorning.tumblr.com/). Come say hello, if you'd like.


End file.
